


The Horsemen are Overprotective and Angry Nerds

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, i mean it is Darksiders so, injury fic, the injury isn't actually graphic I just want to give everyone a fair warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The human is injured and the horsemen bond over being aggressively worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horsemen are Overprotective and Angry Nerds

 

You'd like to claim you knew something horrible was going to happen today, because that would be poetic and everything you to strive for, but really you had no clue. If you had known, you wouldn't have wandered so far from War in your quest to find salvageable tech.

Demons tend to be much less aggressive when War's nearby, although you're betting on it being out of fear rather than anything else. Nonetheless, that fear typically also carries over to you, despite your decidedly human strength.

That being said, you can usually go the whole day of scavenging without seeing a single demon.

Today isn't your lucky day.

You hear claws scraping across concrete a second before the pain and a scream that makes your ears hurt (It takes longer than it really should to notice that sound is your own).

 _Fight_. You decide in a instant.

The pain is white hot but easily forgotten as you spin around to face your assailant, your handgun already yanked out of your waistband.

The shot is more jarring than you remember, but it stuns the demon long enough for you to scramble up the nearest incline. Mid-sized demons can't climb worth a damn, and you just need to buy a little time, just until War arrives.

You press yourself against the wall only to remember the injury and instantly regret it. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ you think in a constant loop, twisting your arm so you can try to feel out the wound. You think it ends on your hip and curves over your back, but you can't be sure without a mirror. Your fingers are covered in blood when you look at them again, the sight making your head spin.

You haven't been this scared in a _long time._

You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear more scrambling claws, knowing the demon must've brought friends (they always do). The sneak attack is really the only surprising thing about this, considering lower demons aren't exactly expert tacticians, unlike your dearest Horseman.

A loud, very familiar roar is what finally gives you the bravery to open your eyes, greeted by War's chaos form tearing through the small pack of demons. _Gruesome_ , you think is a good word for the scene.

They're all turned to ash in a matter of seconds, leaving War glancing around wildly. You've always found it amusing when he forgets to change back, but now it just makes you mildly uncomfortable.

"Over here." You call, your hand curling when you realize maybe waving isn't the best idea right now. War doesn't need any more encouragement to be _fucking pissed_. You don't even want to think about what the others will do.

War stomps over to your little hideout, and you allow him to help you back to ground level without complaint. Despite the whole chaos form thing, he is still War and you're pretty sure the flames are just for show. Either that or you're immune.

You're definitely not immune to demon claws though, as warm liquid dribbling down your back is quick to remind you. You hiss even as War sets you down with his usual gentleness.

The Horseman is back in his usual form in an instant to demand, "Where are you injured?" His is voice is different just after transforming, you notice distantly. Even rougher than usual.

"Back." You admit, unsurprised when he immediately moves to look it over.

If the low, rumbly growl is enough to go on, it doesn't look good. His left hand pulls at your tshirt and you roll your eyes. "It's ruined anyway." You say, answering his silent request.

He slices through the fabric without preamble, and you cross your arms over your chest to keep the front in place. You do have some sense of modesty (unlike everyone else in your household).

"How bad is it?" You ask hesitantly, not liking the sound of War's silence. You almost prefer his growling.

"You'll need stitches." He answers tersely. "Strife can handle it." He decides as he moves to face you again. He narrows his eyes when you hold your hands up, head tilting when he thinks it over. You would normally ask to riding on his shoulders, but the very idea makes you dizzy as all get out.

Actually, just _thinking_ is making you dizzy at the moment.

"War, we gotta go," You say decisively. "Blood loss."

He _verrrry carefully_ picks you up, setting you on his back with the utmost care. "Talk." He orders.

"About _what_?" You're sure he doesn't appreciate the sass, but in your current state vague is basically a foreign language.

There's a pause, and you know War is trying to come up with something to keep you occupied. "What happened?" He finally asks, his anger making a reappearance as he begins making his way back to the portal. You curse the fact Ruin shouldn't be summoned in such a small area. A bad day to explore the side streets, it seems.

You heave a sigh. "I wasn't paying close enough attention. One of 'em got the jump on me before I heard anything."

"You shot it." He responds (you would be tempted to say 'comfortingly' but he still sounds like he wants to shove ChaosEater through somebody's chest).

"Yes, and then I hid and waited for my Prince Charming to rescue me." You tease, shifting forward to kiss his cheek. Even the simple movement sends a wave of pain through you, but you figure it's worth it when he smirks.

"My true form is not charming." He says petulantly.

"And yet I remain charmed and in love." You hum. "Thank you for murdering on my behalf. Although to be honest, the bad part of me sorta wishes they suffered more. My back hurts like hell." And your entire outfit is screwed. You _liked_ these pants, dammit!

This makes War laugh, his shoulders trembling as he tries to keep quiet. "The bad part." He repeats. "What does that make me?"

"Exceptionally vengeful." You make it sound like a compliment. "I forgive you, of course, just as I will forgive when your siblings no doubt flip the fuck out. Speaking of which, you think this was random or does someone, like, have a hit out on me."

War pauses, obviously thinking the pros and cons of either option. "The latter, preferably. 'Random' would imply the general population of demons wants you dead. That would take longer."

"War, genocide is not the answer to everything." You mock-scold. "Assuming its an orchestrated hit then, are we gonna chat up Samael?" You've remained semi-friendly with the usurper since the seventh break, and he's always a good source of information. Granted he doesn't help for free and the Horsemen are quite possibly the worst negotiators you've ever seen, but you can usually strike a deal.

"We are not. You are going to rest after Strife heals you." War's voice leaves no room for argument.

You're almost thankful he can't see your eye roll, knowing that would just exacerbate his horrible mood. "You gonna do that weird Horsemen thing then?" You ask. Honestly, 'weird Horsemen thing' could be a lot of things, but War knows you well enough to get the gist of it.

"I will call the others." He confirms, lips pulling into a grimace.

"You... You're going to stay with me though, right?" You feel vulnerable asking that, but War is quick to assure you that _of course_ he's staying.

Then he's gonna raze hell (in your honor).

You continue chatting all the way to the portal back to their realm, mostly just to keep from passing out. You also enjoy talking with War in general though, and his "how are you feeling"s warm your heart.

You're too out of it to wonder how Strife knew to be at the portal when you get back home, but you do smile in greeting.

"What the fuck." He words it like a statement, and for some reason your blood deprived brain thinks it's hilarious. He has to talk over your breathless laughter to say, "That better be demon blood."

"Strife." You cheer. "Strife, its definitely not demon blood."

Later, you'll note that you've never seen Strife's bright yellow eyes quite so furious, but for the moment, all you notice is bare hands carefully plucking off War's back and Fury's smooth as silk voice. "I've already prepared a bed, but I did not expect you to be so messy."

You make a noncommittal noise in response, and the Horsemen fall silent for a beat. They restart with a mission, all three of them talking much too quickly for you to keep up. You blithely think how nice it is to see them all working in sync without something horrible going on.

Although they would probably argue the human being injured _is_ 'something horrible'.

Fury sets you down on one of their beds (her own, if your nose is correct) with the utmost care, but you hiss in pain anyway. " _Ouch_." You add a few choice curse words as you settle, trying to find a comfy way to lie down on your stomach without twisting you back too much.

"Do not fret, human," She says. You'd almost call it an order, if not for the reassuring pat on your cheek.

You squint up at her with a frown and attempt to say, "Don't patronize me."

She ignores your shakey demand, eyes flickering presumably (because you can't see them from your position) to her brothers. "Brace yourself."

"Wh-" Your mouth snaps shut, eyes watering.

Strife, for all intents and purposes, is the Horsemen's go to doctor when they can't heal with magic or are simply too tired to do so. They can all do healing magic themselves of course, but the others aren't as specialized. Death is all about his necromancy and whatnot while War only knows a few offensive spells. You haven't had the honor of seeing Fury's magic, but you assume it's likewise badass.

And despite being the best healer the Horsemen have, Strife still hasn't gotten the hang of healing a human without making you cry pathetically. It _hurts_. It feels like electricity on your skin, and while it leaves everything clean and numb, you wonder if unnaturally fast recovering is worth it.

War is at your side in an instant, glaring at his brother while he assures you, "Death will be here soon and we will arrange a meeting with Samael. This will not go unpunished."

The snarky comment about how much he sucks at comforting dies in your throat when he wipes away your tears. You feel Fury sit down next to you too, her much smaller fingers untangling the knots in your hair. "Speaking of which, what happened in detail?"

You fall asleep somewhere in between War's explanation and Strife stitching up the deeper cuts.

 

* * *

 

The moment you lift your head you're surrounded by Horsemen, their voices overlapping on another in a panicked flurry of "Are you well?"s, "Do you feel okay?"s, and "Do you need something?"s.

Some which of, you might add, aren't even in English. You wonder if its a stress thing that makes them switch in their native language.

Death is closest to you (something you're sure they fought over during your nap), and he helps you sit up while you assure them, "I'm fine, guys, don't... Don't freak out. Do we have any water?"

They exchange simultaneous glances, and apparently decide War is best suited for granting your request. You have never seen a giant ass Horseman scurry so quickly. _Ever._

He returns in less than a minute, and you kill the time by trying to stretch your back out. It stings something nasty, but nothing you can't handle. "How many stitches?" You ask, watching Death's hands curl anxiously. You shift closer to him in response, leaning against his chest as if keeping yourself upright is too tiring. If he realizes you're just trying to comfort him, he doesn't make it known.

"Too many." Strife huffs, rolling his shoulders. "I'm gonna tear Lucifer apart myself."

"You really think-" War stomps back in with a nephilim sized glass of water, prompting a 'thank you' before you repeat, "You really think Lucifer is behind this?"

"He's being dramatic. It's more likely just a sect of demons that want to stir up trouble." Death hmphs.

"Is this really necessary?" Fury sighs, raking her fingers through her hair. War simply frowns.

"Don't fight." You add on, tilting your face up to give Death what you hope is a stern frown (although Death'd probably call it a pout). "And stop stressing over who tried to murder me while we're at it. There are much better things we could be doing while I heal."

This gifts you with a mixture of exasperated sighs and laughter from the Horsemen, and War asking, "Such as?"

You give him a sunshiny grin, "Movie night."

"It's nearly sunrise." Fury informs you. "But I don't see why we cannot have a movie morning."

"Heck yeah." You agree easily, moving to get off the bed. Two pairs of hands are on your waist as soon as they notice your intent, followed by War and Strife sending each other identical glares.

"Ah, family bonding." Death says mock affectionately.

"First one to let go of the human gets a kiss." You promise, figuring one of them would rather a kiss than simply carrying you to the living room. Fury tries to smother her laughter with a hand, and while you don't bother to glance at Death, you knows he's grinning.

War is the first to relent, releasing you to tilt your face up. "When you are healed." He says, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

You get the distinct feeling he isn't picturing the innocent kiss you were imagining.

_Interesting._

Strife glares at his younger brother and very pointedly pulls you into his arms. "Let's go, human. I'm picking the movie."

"If we watch Jaws one more time I'll fucking cry, Strife." You deadpan, making the Horseman snort. "Can someone make snacks?" You ask before Strife sweeps you out of the room. There's a murmur of agreement from the remaining Horsemen, and you figure they can handle it.

"I've got something much better in mind." Strife claims.

You don't even want to know. "Strife, no."

He shrugs and the movement nearly makes you hold true on your threat. _Ouch._ "Strife!" You yelp, taking a deep breath to stave off the tears pricking your eyes.

He freezes immediately, eyes going wide, "Fuck, sorry. Does it still hurt bad?"

"Not too much. Just, sudden movements." You assure him. "Thanks for fixing me up, by the way. I would've healed fine on my own."

He's much gentler as he begins to walk again, obviously putting thought into how he moves. "If you hadn't died from blood loss. Do you have any idea how much magic you're on right now?"

"None whatsoever." You admit.

Strife makes an annoyed growling noise and you roll your eyes. That's gotta be from their demon heritage (although admittedly, picturing angels hissing at each other makes you laugh. You bet they fluff their wings up too).

The rest of the way to the living room is quiet, and Strife very carefully sets you down on their oversized couch before trying to find whatever movie he's got in mind. You send him a grateful smile as you settle down and grab yourself a blanket that's supposedly made from a monster with a name you can't hope to pronounce. Fury was very happy to tell you that particular story. They used to hunt a lot as a family.

 _Now they bond over me being injured,_ you snort, pulling the iridescent fur into your lap. You cringe at the very thought of putting something on your back right now.

War is the first to rejoin you, claiming the seat to your right. "They can't decide on what to bring." He says, noticing your confusion.

"Of course not." You laugh. "I shou-"

War's pulling you closer before you can even finish, and Strife whips around to hiss, "Don't you dare."

You hold you hands up in surrender. "Okay! Damn."

Strife's eyes narrow before he returns to searching the ever growing collection of movies you scavenge from Earth's ruins. War, being the epitome of subtlety, loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You tilt your face up to frown at him. "I'm _fine."_

His lips pull back into a scowl that would have demons trembling. "You're a liar."

"...True." You admit. You feel like reminding him you're part of the third kingdom would be bad right now, but with the main characteristic being "clever", you'd think they would expect you to be a liar. Even if it is in a vain attempt to make them feel better.

War's expression softens a bit when you smile at him, but he still remains irritated.

"Speaking of which, how long is it gonna take me to heal?" You remember, glancing over at Strife.

"About a week if you stop trying to do things." He answers.

"You have a house full of Horseman to boss around instead." Death continues smoothly. You reach out to him before he can sit down in one of the other chairs, and for a second you think he's going to take the spot next to you.

Only for Fury to gracefully hurdle the back of the couch and steal it. She does so with such grace you can't even get annoyed, only staring at her bewilderedly. "Why?"

She shrugs. "I wanted to sit next to you this time. Is that a bad thing?"

Not for the first time, you realize the Horsemen are weird. "No?" You say. "So. Snacks? Breakfast? Breakfast snacks?"

"In the oven." They say in sync. Fury's lips curls into a self satisfied smile while Death looks _horrified._

"Aww!" You squeak excitedly, "You did the thing!"

Death's glare is red hot, and you respond with a sugary sweet grin. "That makes me so happy, you have no idea," You laugh. It's just so nice to see them getting along.

Death looks away, shoulders relaxing. "Humans." He sighs, almost as an after thought.

"I love you too." You say, in the most patronizing tone you can muster. That's the only way you're able to say it out loud so far, truthfully, but the face Death makes when you sass him is priceless. He looks at War the same way when he does something particularly clever when they're sparring. Like he's proud.

You hum contentedly to yourself as the others control their laughter. Nice.

Strife sits down in front of you instead of grabbing a chair, and you take it upon yourself to fuck up his hair even more than it is naturally. He likes it when you mess with his hair, even if his pride doesn't let him admit it out right. And here they claim humans are cryptic.

Death sits farthest away, but you think all four of them being in the same twenty foot radius without blood being actively spilled is an accomplishment in and of itself. You'll take what you can get.

You love these overprotective nerds.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like royally fucking up my ankle is the universe's way of getting me back for writing this fluffy nonsense. Makes me feel better tho.


End file.
